


Prompt: Kick them while they're down- Keith (Voltron)

by AnaliseGrey



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [15]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (sort of), Bad Things Happen Bingo, Broken Bones, Captivity, Escape, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Keith is an unmitigated badass and I am not remotely sorry, Kick them while they're down, Tasers, in this case literally
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 04:42:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15307710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnaliseGrey/pseuds/AnaliseGrey
Summary: For Bad Things Happen Bingo.Justheretobreakthingsblog on tumblr asked: “If no one's claimed Kick Them While They're Down yet, dibs on that one for Keith”





	Prompt: Kick them while they're down- Keith (Voltron)

The mission was not going well.

Which was to say the mission wasn’t even really happening anymore. Now it was a matter of trying to survive the consequences of his failure, and there was no doubt in Keith’s mind that he’d failed. There were a number of things he’d been taught during his time with the Blade, and one of the big ones was that a Blade who was seen, a Blade who was  _ caught _ , had failed their mission; that the only thing they could reasonably do was protect the rest of the Blade by  _ any means necessary _ . That last part had been said with such utter solemnity that Keith had no illusions as to what it meant; he wasn’t ready to throw his life away just yet, though. 

He’d been on Gom searching for information on the Gomnian’s connections to the Galra; Gomnians were known for their engineering- not quite at the level of the Olkari, but still quite good- and if they were producing machines for the Galra, it might be a weak point in the production line. Unfortunately for Keith, aside from expertise in engineering, Gomnians were blessed with an excellent sense of hearing. Definitely better than his own- he hadn’t heard the security guard approaching, but they’d heard him, the faint tapping of his gloved fingers at the console loud enough for them to hear through a closed door. They’d already had a weapon trained in his direction when the door slid open, and his attempt to dodge for the door had resulted in him being shot. Not his best moment; if he survived this, he wasn’t looking forward to having to explain what happened.

Luckily, the shot seemed to have gone straight through his side. He was bleeding, but he didn’t think it had hit anything vital. The guard still had his gun trained on him.

“Don’t move! Stay where you are.”

Another guard slid in the door, past the first one, and carefully approached Keith, a set of cuffs in one hand. Keith eyed them warily; he knew his chances of escape would drop steeply the moment they went on. He stayed still as the guard approached, and when the guard reached a hand out for Keith’s mask, he waited until it had disengaged then sprang forward and bit, hard as he could, at the guard’s arm. The guard screamed, dropping the cuffs, and Keith ducked low, moving so the guard with the gun would have to shoot through his companion to hit Keith. He reached for his blade; he could do this. It would be alright-

His muscles seized and he dropped his blade before hitting the floor on his knees as lightning lit across his left shoulder.

“You fucking brat.” The guard he’d bitten put his taser away, then pulled back his foot and kicked him, aiming for the blaster wound. Keith dropped the rest of the way to the ground, choking down on the scream caught in his throat. “Get a muzzle. We’ve got a biter.”

The world got hazy around the edges after that. They’d cuffed him, arms behind his back, and true to their word, had fitted a muzzle over his face. There was a bar they forced between his teeth before tightening straps that ran over the bridge of his nose up over the top of his head before meeting in the back with the straps that pulled at the corners of his mouth and bit into his cheeks. They buckled it seemingly as tight as it could go, and he thought he heard the sound of a lock snapping into place before they let go. They dragged him to a cell and dropped him on the floor; he’d landed hard with no way to catch himself, his sounds of pain softened by the muzzle. The second guard had gotten a few more kicks in before the first one pulled him away, leaving Keith alone.

He’d had missions go better, if he were honest.

He took a few minutes to gather himself, just processing what had happened. He was still bleeding, and some of his ribs might have broken, though he couldn’t tell over the scream of the blaster wound; he hoped they were just badly bruised, but considering how everything had been going so far, he wasn't optimistic.

Escape like this would be difficult, but not necessarily impossible; he just had to be creative. He’d also have to ignore how much it was going to hurt.

Once he was settled, he set to work. He clenched his jaw around the bit between his teeth and curled in, doing his best to ignore the pain entirely; with some wiggling he was able to get the circle of his arms over his butt, his legs threaded through so his arms were in front of him. He lay there another few minutes, panting through his nose and gathering the strength to stand. It wasn’t a question of whether or not he could stand; if he didn’t, he was going to die here, and that wasn’t an option.

He rolled to his side, then pushed up to his knees. From there it was up to standing, even if he did have to lean against a wall for a moment. Right, door next.

He got to the door, and was inspecting it when he heard footsteps in the hall. He stepped to the side of the door frame, pressing himself back against the wall as closely as he could so he wouldn’t be immediately visible when the door opened.

There was the sound of a key in the lock, and the door swung out towards the hall. Keith held his breath and waited.

“What the-” The guard stepped in, not noticing him off to the side until it was too late. Keith jumped forward, looped his arms over the guard’s shoulders and around his neck, and pulled, using the cuffs to press in against the guard’s throat. He leaned back hard as he could, willing the guard to stop fighting back, to go limp. It took a minute or two, and some additional bruises to Keith’s arms, but eventually the guard stopped moving, and Keith struggled to get him down to the floor without being pulled down and pinned under him. He managed to get his arms loose and ducked down, checking for where he thought a pulse would be. It was there, but faint; unconscious, not dead. He searched the guard, and tfound a taser like they’d used on him before, and a small ring of keys, though none of them looked like they opened the cuffs. He hoped one of them would open the muzzle, but he’d worry about that later. In the meantime, he needed to find his blade, and then find a way to a pod to get off-planet. He’d just about downloaded the data he’d needed when he was captured, and they’d done a terrible job at searching him; the data was still stored in his suit. If he could get off-planet, this wouldn’t be a total disaster.

Keeping low, Keith poked his head out into the hallway, glancing both ways before ducking out, aiming for quiet and stealth. He knew from experience he could fight with his hands cuffed, but it would be difficult, and his wounds would make him slower even if he tried to ignore them. His best bet was to just avoid confrontation entirely.

He headed back the direction he’d been brought from, figuring they’d keep weapons and confiscated items closer to the entrance. The problem was this was also likely closer to where the guards congregated when they weren’t actively patrolling. He’d be careful, but it was a risk he had to take.

He crept forward, taser primed and ready. A few corridors further along and the doors changed from cell block doors to more ordinary doors. There was no way to know which one might be the one he needed, so he started opening doors, hoping none of the rooms would be full of guards.

The third door he opened had shelves with storage boxes, and there on a table, so far uncatalogued, was his blade, along with his communicator link. He put the link back in his ear, but realized he couldn’t easily buckle his blade back on until his hands were free. He sighed in frustration, but unsheathed the blade and left the rest behind. He could get a replacement sheath and belt when he got back; the blade itself was what was important. With blade in one hand, and taser in the other, it was time to find a way out and off-planet.

His pod had been hidden a short walk away, but he didn’t know if it was still a viable option; if they’d searched the area at all they’d likely have found it, but it was a ship he knew, and he wouldn’t have to break into a hangar to get to it. 

The next room he checked was also thankfully empty, and had the added benefit of having a window. It was a little higher than he could easily reach, but he would make it work; he knew it was only a matter of time before someone else realized what had happened and sounded the alarm. He had to be gone before that happened. The room looked like an office of some kind, with a desk and chair, and it was the latter he pushed over to the wall so it was under the window. He set the taser down on the desk, deciding it wasn’t worth trying to hold onto. He tucked the blade carefully between his knees so he had his hands free to get the window open. Taking a quick look outside, it didn’t look like there was anyone nearby. Good.

He took the blade again and dropped it out the window ahead of him. He heard it hit the ground, and now all there was to do was get himself out the window, which was easier said than done. The ledge of the window was at waist height for him when he was on the chair, but having his hands still cuffed meant it would be difficult to climb out. He’d have to worm his way out and drop to the ground, and he knew the landing wasn’t going to be terribly graceful; but he also knew he couldn’t stay. He took as deep a breath as his ribs allowed, centered himself again and grabbed the edge of the window sill, pushing himself up. His ribs screamed at the movement, and he could feel the warmth of fresh blood soaking into the side of his suit from the blaster wound. The sooner he got out of here the better, really.

He was halfway out the window when an alarm started to blare, startling him. He tumbled out the window, landing awkwardly, and he heard and felt a pop in his shoulder; he was oddly grateful for the muzzle as it muffled his scream.

Shaking, he got up into a crouch and grabbed his blade. He could hear shouting from inside the building- they were starting to look for him.

He had to go.

He wouldn’t be able to keep it up for long, but he ran as fast as he could towards the wooded area he’d hidden his pod in, praying it was still there, that they hadn’t found it, hadn’t set guards on it. His vision was going gray at the edges, and he knew he didn’t have long until his body refused to do what he wanted. He just had to make it to the pod. If he could do that, and if it wasn’t guarded, and if he could get off the planet-

_ If, if, if _ .

He made it to the clearing he’d left the pod in without further incident, and he was willing to call it a miracle that it didn’t look like it had been disturbed- they hadn’t found it. He opened the hatch and got in, sealing the opening behind him, and dropped heavily into the pilot’s chair, setting his blade down next to him and taking a second to catch his breath. Breathing was getting more difficult, and he didn’t know if it was his ribs, shock from the blaster wound, or any combination of other things. He could feel his pulse hammering as it throbbed through his shoulder, and getting that reduced was going to suck.

First things first though.

He got the engines going, and managed to take off; holding the throttle was difficult with cuffed hands, but again, not impossible.

He broke atmosphere and gunned the engines, wanting to get as far from Gom as fast as he could. He cleared Gom’s two moons, and made it out of the system before he was willing to relax, reasonably sure he wasn’t being followed.

Now that he was pretty sure he was safe, though, he could feel his adrenaline fading, and his injuries were starting to catch up with him. He wanted to try to get the muzzle off, but it was then he realized in his rush to escape, he’d left the keys behind. He gently hit his head back against his seat, and winced when the lock on the back of the muzzle dug into his head. This just really hadn’t been his day.

He had to get back to a Blade base, but he was having trouble focusing enough to remember where the nearest one was. Now that he wasn’t in immediate danger, he was finding it harder and harder to stay awake and aware, to concentrate on what had to be done; he knew the Blades wouldn’t necessarily come for him if it might compromise them, but he was pretty sure he knew some people who would.

He tapped into the mini computer on his suit, and set the comm link to the distress signal Pidge had given him before he left the Castle the last time. She’d told him that if he was in trouble to trigger it, and they’d try to come for him.

He turned on the signal, and hoped.

Time passed, though he was having trouble keeping track of how much. He knew he was fading in and out of consciousness, and that probably wasn’t good. His shoulder throbbed at him, but with his hands cuffed he couldn’t easily reset it on his own. He’d dug out the first aid kit from the pod, but its contents were minimal. He’d tried applying pressure to the blaster wound, but he could only reach the front, and thought he was maybe still bleeding in the back.

He’d slid down in his seat, and was considering just curling up on the floor; it wouldn’t be comfortable, but would be better than passing out and falling out of the pilot’s seat. His eyes were sliding shut again when there was a soft ping from his comm link. He forced his eyes open, checking the pod’s scanners. They didn’t reach far, but there was something incoming.

Something big-

-and lion-shaped.

Oh thank quiznack.

He wouldn’t be able to easily answer, but he set his comm channel to open, and relaxed back in the chair. Help was on the way.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel like saying hi, asking me a question, want to flail at me, or have a prompt? Come say hello to me on tumblr at [Analisegrey](http://analisegrey.tumblr.com/)!


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